


Fall Into You

by christinamarie92



Category: Everlark - Fandom, The Hunger Games, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, everlark, katniss everdeen - Freeform, peeta mellark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-11 22:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4453961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinamarie92/pseuds/christinamarie92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss does what she can to support her and her son, Mason, after Gale, her husband, and Mason’s father, was suddenly ripped from their lives five short years ago. Still dealing with the emotional turmoil that comes along with losing someone so lose, an experience that Katniss knows all too well, she inevitably makes an unlikely friend. And though her life may be a constant struggle in the moment, it’s the light of a new face that sheds the promise of hope for better things to come through her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I run my fingers through the raven locks on the head lying in my lap, trying to force all thoughts of his father out of my mind.

“Mommy, can you tell me another story about dad?” he asks, eyes gleaming as he stares up at me through thick eyelashes. My heart never fails to sink when he asks me this question. Now that he’s six years old his mind is as curious as ever.

“Sure, Mase.”

My son, Mason, is one of the only remainders from my relationship with his father. I have my wedding band, his hunting jacket, my son, and my broken heart.

I miss his father, and my husband, Gale, terribly. Not a day goes by that thoughts of him don’t consume my mind.

“Daddy was the nicest man in the whole world,” I say to him, watching in earnest as he stares up at me with the biggest smile on his face; the smile that's never ceased to become another reminder of his father. I tell Mason the same stories every time, but he listens attentively and enjoys them like it’s the first.

“Do you miss him?” he asks.

“I miss him every day,” I answer truthfully. “Do you miss him?”

He doesn’t respond, at first, instead breaking our eye contact, curling his body up as small as he possibly can.

“Mase?” I ask, trying to pry his limbs away from his body. “What’s wrong?”

He loosens up, wiping the tears from his pale gray eyes. “I’m sorry mommy. I don’t remember him, so… I can’t miss him.”

“Oh, baby, come here.” I pull him against me and wrap him in my arms. “Shhhh, it’s okay, Mason. It’s okay.” 

“I want… to… remember him…” he attempts to speak between his cries. “I should… remember him…”

“No, baby. There’s no way that you could. You were barely a year old. It’s impossible.”

I lift Mason off of the couch, and take him to my bedroom, silently dreading the day where he becomes too heavy for me to carry. I tuck him into the bed and climb in next to him, enveloping him in my arms once again.

“You okay, baby?” I ask when his cries seem to have ceased.

“Are you sure it doesn’t make me bad because I don’t remember daddy?”

“Yes, I promise. You could never be bad, Mason. I love you.”

“I love you too, mommy.”

As Mason drifts off to sleep, my mind wanders to the usual pre-bedtime thoughts: Gale.

It has been 5 years since he passed away, and the pain is still fresh in my mind as if everything had happened yesterday. The car accident, having to watch him lie in a hospital bed on life support— all while trying to care for our one-year-old son is still an open wound on my life.

I will never love anyone as much as I loved Gale Hawthorne.

He and I were high school sweethearts. We were the king and queen of the prom, and of our lives. We were inseparable, which meant going to the same college after we graduated.

We had a fairytale life, and love, but dreams of our life together came to a screeching halt when we were confronted with a positive pregnancy test.

Gale proposed the minute he laid eyes on that test. I never once hesitated in my response, which was of course: yes. Six months later we wed, and I was Mrs. Gale Hawthorne, with a baby bump that I was unable to hide.

When Mason was born, I was the happiest I’d been in my entire life. Although we were 20-year-old college students with a newborn, we were together, and that’s all that mattered to us.

We lived in a tiny apartment, barely able to afford rent each month. Life was hectic with both Gale and I attending college, and on top of that, raising Mason. We relied heavily on the day care that our school provided, which wasn’t much to begin with.

My life was put on pause once again, when life with a child became too difficult for both Gale and I to stay in school, thus forcing me to drop out and care for our son.

One night, Gale had just come home from a night class and I was in our little apartment, caring for our sick son. He had offered to go to the 24-hour pharmacy to pick up some medicine for him.

He never made it home.

A drunk driver struck his car, and Gale was immediately rushed to a nearby hospital. I was forced to bring our sick son to the hospital as quickly as I could and be by Gale’s side.

Gale was on life support for two weeks, and I was at the hospital every day, every night. I was living a nightmare, almost nearly going through the same situation a few years ago when my little sister, Prim, was in the hospital. Although cancer was ultimately her demise, it still felt the same.

Watching someone you love’s life slip away in a hospital bed while you’re completely out of control is the worst feeling in the world. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

His funeral was attended by the many people who admired Gale Hawthorne as I did, for the amazing man, and father, that he was.

Between caring for Mason and dealing with the death of my husband, going back to college was never an option for me. I’ve always promised myself that I would go back and get my degree, but it just was not possible, which is part of the reason why I struggle to this day with supporting Mason financially.

Some days it’s a fight for me to even get out of bed, but Mason is what keeps me going. He is the only good and solid thing in my life.

I glance over at my son sleeping peacefully beside me, and smile to myself. He is the most incredible child in the entire world, and I am so lucky to have him, but I so badly wish he had his father.

I kiss the top of his head, squeezing him tight while I join him and drift off to sleep.

– – – – –

It’s usually quite awkward for me while picking Mason up from school. Since we are new to town I don’t know who any of the other parents are, not to mention most of them are many years older than me.

My face lights up as I catch sight of Mason walking down the hallway with the other students, and he smiles when he spots me.

“Hey Mase!” I say as he runs up and hugs me. “How was school today?”

“Good! I got invited to a birthday party!” He shoves a paper invitation into my hand. The invitation reads: Amy Cartwright’s 7th Birthday Party at the FunZone. I have never heard that name before, which naturally makes me skeptical.

“Who is Amy?” I ask him, but a woman approaching us interrupts me.

“Hello! I’m Delly Cartwright. This is my daughter, Amy.” A little girl with long blonde hair smiles up at me. This woman, Delly, looks as if she’s in her mid-thirties, and has a bit too much makeup on her face in an attempt to mask her age.

“Hello…” I reply, my confusion obvious.

“I see that Mason got his invitation,” she continues. “Are you his older sister?”

“Um, no. I’m his mother.” I snap, unable to hide the scowl on my face.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry…” She pauses, as if she’s waiting for me to tell her my name.

“Katniss.” I answer.

“Katniss, I didn’t mean to offend you. I just assumed—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” The last thing that I want is to get into a fight with this woman in front of our children.

“We would love it if Mason could come to Amy’s party on Saturday!”

“We’ll see. I have to go now, though. So sorry about that. It was great meeting you.”

“Bye, Katniss!”

I can’t lie, whenever I get mistaken for Mason’s sister, which happens quite often, it hurts. It makes me feel like a failure, like I fucked up when I had him because I was so young. But then I glance at him, and he smiles at me with Gale’s smile, and I feel blessed. Without Mason I wouldn’t have much to remind me of Gale anymore.

“Mommy, can I go to the party?” he asks from the back seat of the car on our drive home from school.

“I don’t know, Mase. Do you like that girl? Are you friends?”

“Oh yes mommy! My best friends are Andrew, Amy, and Rylie!”

Mason and I have lived in this town for a month, and I’ve never heard him speak of any friends prior to today, especially three best friends. It seems odd and sudden to me.

“Are they nice to you?”

“Yes. Everyone is nice.”

“Oh, good. So you want to go to this party?”

“Yes, please!”

“I’ll think about it.”

– – – – –

I huff out a loud frustrated sigh as I stand alone in the corner, taking tentative sips from my water bottle. I force myself to fake a smile once I realize I am glaring as the children around me shriek loudly and play.

I let Mason convince me to take him to this birthday party. To my dismay, the parents are forced to stay. A major detail I was unaware of until we arrived.

“Mommy!” Mason yells and waves to me from across the building, a gigantic smile spread across his face. He’s playing on a trampoline, jumping before diving into a pool of large foam pieces. I’m afraid that no matter how safe he is, I will still always fear for his safety. 

I suppose that’s just another side effect of losing my husband.

I smile and wave silently, not wanting to direct any of the parents’ attention toward me. I am perfectly content remaining in my own world until the party ends.

In typical Katniss style I inevitably find myself face-to-face with the refreshment table. While piling potato chips, and other various snacks onto my plate, someone’s voice startles me. I immediately regret leaving my secluded area in the corner of the building.

“Having any fun?” a stranger with blonde curls and intoxicating blue eyes asks.

“So much,” I reply, my voice monotone and dull. “Isn’t it obvious?” I motion to my plate, which is overflowing with snacks.

“I just assumed you were hungry.” He flashes a crooked smile, which causes my breath to hitch in my throat.

“That too.” I attempt to force the smile off my face, but my mouth ultimately wins the battle.

“I’m Peeta,” he introduces himself, holding his hand out for me to shake.

“Katniss.”

“My daughter never shuts up about Mason. It’s adorable, they’re like best buds.”

“Oh, uh… Yeah, Mason doesn’t either.” The awkwardness is extremely palpable as I stumble over my words. I’m unsure of what exactly to say, because I don’t have the slightest clue who his daughter is. 

Peeta interrupts me while I try and think back to Mason’s list of best friends that he told me about just a few days ago.

“You have no idea who my daughter is, do you?” He sneers at my perplexed state.

“I know who she is!” I can tell instantly by the look he gives that he must see right through my façade.

“Rylie,” he says while pointing in the direction of a petite girl with curly blonde hair, featuring the same stunning blue eyes as her father. Peeta could never deny paternity of Rylie, they’re are practically identical. 

“Of course! I knew that. Mason said she was one of his best friends.”

“Katniss,” Peeta moves a bit closer toward me, and I feel his breath against my neck as he speaks a bit too close for comfort. “We can make this a lot easier if we agree not to lie to each other.”

“I’m… not…” I’m unable to form coherent thoughts or words, and an unfamiliar feeling begins to flood through my veins at a rapid pace as I stare into Peeta’s bright cerulean orbs.

“Your face is turning so red.” He pulls back, smirking and giggling. “Relax, girl on fire. I’m just teasing.”

I reach with my left hand to smack Peeta, and his bicep is muscular under my touch, which in and of itself causes me to involuntarily flush once again.

“Oh, fuck,” I hear Peeta mumble under his breath unexpectedly, causing me to still.

“What…?” I mutter, my confusion evident.

“I didn’t…uh, see the ring. I didn’t know you were married. I’m sorry, I feel like such an asshole for hitting on you just now.”

“You don’t feel like an asshole for hitting on me at a children’s birthday party?” I attempt to divert the conversation away from my wedding band, and away from Gale. 

“Surprisingly, no. Our kids aren’t watching, and the other parents are too caught up in trying to talk themselves up to one another.”

I giggle, looking down at my feet and aimlessly kicking around a fallen pretzel while trying to formulate some sort of response that doesn’t involve talking about Gale. Or that in fact I’m not married, but a widow who can’t let go or take off her ring.

“No, but seriously,” Peeta continues. “I’m sorry for hitting on you. Friends?”

“Friends,” I reply, feeling the warmth in my cheeks once again.

“You should bring Mason by the bakery sometime, Mellark’s on 5th Street. I know the owner, and I might be able to get you a free cupcake.”

“You’re the owner of Mellark’s? Mason loves those chocolate chip cookies with the frosting. My neighbor got them for us when we moved in last month. He’s always begging me to get them, but I’ve only made it in once.”

“You should bring Mason by tomorrow. He and Rylie can have a little play date. She would love that.”

“Okay,” I pause, detesting the way that I can’t stop beaming in his direction. “I’ll allow it.”

– – – – –

The bell above the door rings, signaling our arrival to the bakery. Mason and I stand at the front counter by the cash register, waiting for Peeta to greet us.

I silently scold myself for being this anxious. My sweaty palms leave handprints on my jeans as I continuously swipe them. I can feel my heart race from the anticipation of seeing Peeta again.

Stop it, Katniss. You shouldn’t be feeling this way about another man. What about your husband? What about Gale?

“Katniss! Hey, it’s great to see you again.”

My heart plummets into my stomach as his striking blue eyes pierce through my soul, his smile practically melting my insides.

“Hey, Peeta,” I respond, despising the nervous high-pitched voice that emanates from my mouth. My eyes wander up and down his figure and pause at his handsome face, watching the way he runs his hands through his blonde locks.

Mason doesn’t hesitate running off when he spots Rylie, and they both quickly chase each other up the stairs, leaving Peeta and I alone in the empty bakery. He must sense the concern on my face, because he reassures me they went to the apartment upstairs— Peeta and Rylie’s home above the bakery.

“This place is never this empty…” I awkwardly attempt to start a conversation, preferably one that isn’t about myself, or my dead husband.

“We’re closed on Sunday’s, that's why.”

Peeta walks over toward a small white box sitting on the countertop. He smiles to himself as he lifts the box and brings it back over to where I’m sitting.

“I made some of the cookies Mason likes, and I made some cupcakes for you and your husband,” Peeta says, with a satisfied smirk. Little does he know that I lied about my husband, and how emotionally destroyed I am. I keep repeating to myself in my head that I cannot break down in front of this man that I barely know, and that I must stay strong.

A single tear burns a path down my cheek, and I quickly swipe it away with the back of my hand, praying that Peeta didn’t catch a glimpse of it. A glimpse of how much of a weak woman I really am.

“Katniss…? Are you okay?”

“I’m, uh… I’m not married.” The words catch in my throat, barely making their way out. I sound as pathetic and as numb as I feel.

“Then why do you wear a ring? I don’t understand.” The confusion on Peeta’s face makes it even more difficult for me to formulate a thought, which causes me to stare at him in silence for much longer than I’d have liked to.

“Katniss?” he asks once again. My brain is still a jumbled mess, the only thoughts being of Gale, and the accident leading up to this conversation.

“He’s dead,” I spit out, the words tasting vile.

Peeta’s face falls instantly and transforms into a pink hue, his eyes staring blankly, his mouth agape. Eye contact with him is painful, so I gaze at the wall next to him, continuing to scold myself in my head for breaking down. For showing my weakness.

“I had no idea. I’m so sorry, Katniss. If you ever need anything, I’m here for you.”

My eyes produce tears at a rapid pace, and breathing becomes more difficult with every second that passes. My head feels as light as a feather, and before I even realize, Peeta has gone to the kitchen, returning moments later with some water.

I can’t recall if I’ve thanked him for the water or not, but I take a faltering sip, nearly choking as I set the cup back down on the table. 

As my breathing evens out I feel the need to escape, to get out of this bakery and get back to my home— to where I feel comfortable and safe.

“I need… I need to go. I’m sorry.”

“Wait, please. Are you okay?”

“Mason!” I call up the stairs. “Let’s go!”

“Katniss, wait—”

“I’m sorry, Peeta. I need to leave.”

Mason trudges down the stairs, Rylie following slowly behind. I grab his hand and begin to lead him out of the bakery.

“Why are we leaving, mommy?” he asks, his voice laced with a sadness that I am all too familiar with.

“Mommy has stuff to do at home, okay, Mase?”

The drive home is tense, and I can tell Mason is bursting at the seams with anger that he wants to unleash toward me. 

“Mase?” I hesitantly ask, testing the waters. The only thing worse than the pain of Gale’s death is when Mason is upset with me. 

“What’s wrong, mommy? Are you sad again?”

“No, Mase. I’m okay…”

“Is it about daddy?” he cuts me off, and I feel my heart immediately shatter. Every day I attempt to hide my emotions from Mason, I never want him to see me hurting. He only catches me occasionally, but it still hurts like hell every time. Because the last thing that I want is for my son to see me like this. I’m supposed to be strong for him, but it’s an enormous challenge. I’m just a weak and pathetic woman attempting to pick up the pieces of a damaged life every day.

“No. It’s not about daddy.”

Fortunately, there isn't much distance between our small house and Peeta’s bakery. Mason sluggishly enters the house, plopping down on the couch, picking up the remote control to turn the television on.

“Mase, could you go to your room for a little while?”

“Why?”

“Just go in your room and play with your toys, okay?

Mason doesn’t respond, instead he runs straight into his room and slams the door closed behind him. My heart is heavy in my chest, and my immediate motherly instinct is to apologize and comfort him. I should be reassuring him that I’m okay, and that nothing is wrong. Instead, I’m forced to neglect his needs and focus solely on myself, which causes my body to nearly regurgitate my breakfast. 

I’m unable to make it to my bedroom before the tear production begins. My cheeks are scorching as I arrive, and once my door is closed and locked, I completely surrender to the pain and emotions I’ve been feeling this entire day.

My chest tightens while I stand here sobbing, thoughts of Gale consuming my mind.

Why did he have to leave me?

The crystal clear image in my head of Gale’s lifeless body hooked up to machines in the hospital is forever engrained in my brain. And it’s also the only sight I see at the moment.

“Catnip…” I almost swear I can hear Gale’s voice whisper his nickname for me. 

My back slides down the wall until I’m seated on the floor with my legs pulled tightly to my chest. The fingers on my right hand close around the gold ring on my left hand, squeezing tightly.

This is all that I have left.

On top of the depression and anxiety over my husband’s death, I am now forced to deal with a mountain of added stress. Gale did have a life insurance policy, but it didn’t leave us with much. What we did have, between that money and my savings, has been trickling away for a while. And now I’m nearly being faced with a balance of $0.00.

Mason and I were forced to move to this town, and into this diminutive house. The search for a job must begin shortly, but since I have no degree, and no experience besides being a stay-at-home mother, I’m anticipating nothing but doors slammed in my face.

I will do whatever it takes to support Mason, and provide him with a stable home life.

When I feel as if my head is going to detonate, I wipe my salted cheeks with the back of my hand and climb onto my bed. I wrap myself up as small as I possibly can and shut my eyes.

– – – – – 

I jolt awake to a loud banging noise. It takes me some time to recognize that it’s coming from my bedroom door. It takes even more time for me to register that it must be Mason on the other side.

My head is cloudy as I stand from the bed, and I stumble on my first few steps. 

As I open the door, Mason runs inside and latches onto my legs immediately. When I pry him off of me, I see his face is stained with tears.

“Mase, oh my god,” I bend down and pull him into my arms, squeezing him as tight as my arms allow. “What’s wrong?”

“I was so scared, mommy,” he shouts. “I was knocking and you didn’t answer.”

“I’m so sorry, Mason. I’m so sorry.”

I pick Mason up and place him gently on my bed. I lay next to him, pulling him tightly against me. I scatter kisses on the top of his head and take this time to assure him that everything is okay, and that he has nothing to worry about.

“I love you, mommy.”

“I love you more.”

– – – – –

Once again I’m abruptly awoken, but this time it’s because of my cell phone ringing on the nightstand.

I grab it and silently slip out of my room, careful not to wake Mason, who is sound asleep.

Without checking the caller I.D., I hastily answer my phone and whisper, “Hello.”

“Katniss? I’m sorry, did I wake you?” I instantly recognize the voice as Peeta’s.

“No. It’s fine,” I speak at a normal volume now that I’m out of Mason’s earshot. I scold myself as the warm feeling courses through my veins once again. The same feeling that comes along whenever I hear Peeta’s voice.

We begin speaking at the same time, both of us fumbling over our words when we realize the other is talking as well. I let out a small giggle, which sounds foreign coming from my mouth, and Peeta does the same.

“You go first,” he says, and it’s as if I can almost hear him smiling over the phone.

“Peeta, I’m sorry for earlier. I…”

“You have nothing to apologize for Katniss. I shouldn’t…”

“I thought you said I could go first?” Peeta has me genuinely laughing once again, which is something that I haven’t done in quite some time.

“I’m sorry! Continue, please.”

“I’m sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have stormed out like that. I just got a little bit, um… worked up. And I freaked out and panicked. But that was no reason for me to act like a child. I’m just really sorry, Peeta. It was so rude.”

“No, I was rude. I’m sorry, Katniss. I had no idea.”

“How could you have? I lied about it.”

“I put you in an awkward position, and I apologize.”

We effortlessly transition into an actual normal conversation for once; chatting about Mason and Rylie’s school, their teachers, and their friendship.

“It is adorable, isn’t it? Rylie is so attached to him.”

“Mason was so angry that I made him leave today.”

He steers the conversation in another direction. “Can I ask you something?”

“Um, sure.” Peeta sounds worried, almost like this has been something wracking his brain, and something he’s desperate for an answer to. This causes the butterflies in my stomach to flutter around at a rapid pace, and my hands begin to sweat.

“Can I ask if you don’t mind? What, uh... happened to your husband?”

I pull the phone from my ear, wondering if the words that I just heard were real. I keep replaying what Peeta said over and over in my head, trying to verbalize some of the thoughts scrambling around in my brain.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“He, uh… got in a car accident. His car was hit by a drunk driver. He was in the hospital for about two weeks… on life support. It was uh, really hard for me. Mason was only one, so he doesn’t remember him. I struggle every day, Peeta.”

I don’t quite understand why I’m opening up to Peeta so easily, when I’ve never been able to with any of the therapists that I’ve tried. Not even my own son. It’s just… easy talking to Peeta, for some reason.

“That was 5 years ago, but sometimes it feels like yesterday.” Peeta has barely spoken the entire time that I’ve been rambling about Gale. He’s listening attentively and giving his responses when necessary. “You’re being quiet, am I scaring you away?”

“You just have me thinking a little bit… about my ex-girlfriend.”

My heart plummets down to my stomach, and I’m at a complete loss for words. I’m not good at listening to other people’s problems, which is probably because mine consume me, leaving me no time or patience for anyone else’s.

“Rylie’s mom?”

“Yes. But honestly, I barely even consider her that.”

Peeta tells me the story of Madge, his ex-girlfriend, and who he calls ‘the woman who birthed my daughter.’

“It was my senior year at University— I was at a party. Original, right? Anyways— I made eye contact with this stunning blonde girl, so of course I made a move. She told me she was 20, which led to a drunken hook up, and a faulty condom. Turns out, she was 18, a senior in high school, and I knocked her up.”

“No way! What a… slut!”

Peeta laughs at my outburst and proceeds with his story. “She didn’t want the baby, but I couldn't allow her to get an abortion. I could never live with myself, and I could never let someone do that to my child. So we ended up dating for the duration of her pregnancy, and trying to make it work for the baby. But then she had Rylie, handed her over to me, and I never saw her again.”

“You’re joking right? What a bitch! I can’t believe any mother could do that!”

“I told you, that’s why she isn’t a mother. I’m pretty sure she just used me for money, companionship, and sex during her pregnancy. I don’t think she ever liked me at all, except that night she was wasted. But I really fell for her. It just… sucked.”

“I’m sorry, Peeta.”

“No, you have nothing to apologize for, Katniss. She’s a bitch, and Rylie and I are a million times better off without her toxicity in our lives.”

“Rylie really is so beautiful. She looks exactly like you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, and that you think I’m beautiful.” I can practically hear him smirk at me. My face flushes a deep crimson, and I’m grateful that Peeta cannot see me right now.

“Peeta, we’ve been talking for two hours, and it’s one in the morning,” I say while yawning into the phone. Even though it’s late, and I need to get some sleep, I secretly want to stay on the phone and continue my conversation with Peeta.

“We need to get some sleep, because the kids have to get up for school tomorrow.”

“Oh, the joys of having children.”

We both laugh for a minute, lingering on the line, not wanting to disconnect our call.

“Goodnight, Katniss.”

“Goodnight, Peeta.”

I wait until he hangs up before shutting my phone off, quietly tiptoeing back into my room and slithering back into bed with Mason. I kiss the top of his head, settling down under the covers.

I lay awake staring at the ceiling, thoughts of Peeta consuming my mind. For the first time in 5 years I am drifting off to sleep content. I’m not crying myself to sleep, or struggling to breathe because the weight of the loss of Gale just will not lighten up. I’m not lying on my side, staring at the empty space in the bed next to me.

I’m with my son, the most important thing in my entire life. I’ve made a new friend, a good friend, in Peeta. It seems that things are finally looking up for me.

And then I shut my eyes. 

All I can see is Gale.


	2. Chapter 2

My alarm promptly blares at an early hour to get Mason ready for school. Relief courses throughout my entire body when I stretch, my limbs not met with an empty bed. I got the best sleep I’ve had in a long time because Mason was beside me.

For the last five years, a majority of my slumber has been restless. Since Gale’s death, the emptiness that I feel while lying alone in bed is torturous and the only nights I get decent sleep is when Mason fills the loneliness.

My son is the only thing that fills that massive void in my life, and sometimes even that isn’t enough.

My morning ritual continues; Mason gets up to brush his teeth and get dressed for school, while I do the same.

In the midst of brushing my teeth, my entire body freezes while I gaze at myself in the mirror, when I notice that my left hand is bare.

I spit all of the toothpaste and saliva into the sink, and sprint back into the bedroom. I retrace my steps along the way, staring down at the floor for the band of gold that I hold so close to my heart.

The tears that fill my gray orbs cause my vision to blur, and the search to become more challenging. My cheeks burn as I brush the tears away with the back of my hand.

I crawl onto the floor and take a peek under my bed, but the ring is still nowhere to be found. My anxiety grows greater, my palms perspire quicker, and the sobs intensify.

As I stand, I tear the duvet and sheets off the bed and throw them onto the floor. My entire body freezes when I spot a gold band lying in the middle of my mattress.

The relief is instant, and washes over me like a tidal wave as I snatch the ring and slide it onto the ring finger on my left hand.

I am fortunate enough that the rest of my morning goes by smoothly, with Mason getting himself set for school while I calmed myself down.

“Mommy, can we go back to the bakery soon?” Mason asks from the back seat.

“Sure, Mase. We’ll go back soon, okay?” I say, telling my son the truth. With my newfound friendship with Peeta, it’s a safe assumption that Mason and I will be at the bakery frequently.

He smiles, which makes my sour mood change instantaneously. One of the only things to get me to even crack a grin is Mason’s smile.

I sit in the car and watch as Mason makes his way into the school building, while stopping to say ‘hello’ to all of the teachers he passes along the way.

The beep of a car horn causes me to nearly jump out of my skin, but the sight of Peeta laughing calms me down instantly.

“Hey scaredy cat,” he says when he approaches my car window on foot, a beaming smile crossing his face.

“Shut up!”

“I’m just teasing.”His smile grows even wider. “Got any plans for today? Would you like to get some breakfast with me?”

I’m unsure which would be more humiliating; telling Peeta that I can’t afford to get any breakfast with him, or letting him know that I can’t go because I need to go job hunting. Peeta is the owner of the best bakery in town, which leads me to believe he has plenty of money. Where I on the other hand am almost down to my last dime.

“Rain check?” I ask. “I have to get going.”

“Sure, Katniss. I’ll see you soon.”

– – – – –

So far I’ve had 3 different places take a glance at my miniscule resume before sending me right back out the door that I came in. No business wants to hire a single mother with no college degree, and barely any previous job experience.

I’m uncertain if I stumble into Snow’s Pub for a job, or for alcohol, but when I glance up from the beer in front of me at the bar, a ‘HELP WANTED’ sign is staring at me straight in the face.

“Excuse me?” I ask the bartender. “Is there a manager that I could speak to?”

“Why?” the feisty brunette bartender asks. “Something wrong with the beer?” her sarcasm is evident, and I immediately take a liking to her.

“No, the beer is fine. I just wanted to talk about that,” I say, pointing to the sign and slipping my resume out of my purse.

“Heavensbee!” I hear the bartender call into the back.

A man of medium-height with a rotund stomach makes his way to the bar, to where I sit. Up until now, I hadn’t even realized that I was the only customer in the building.

“Plutarch Heavensbee,” he reaches his hand out to shake mine. “How can I help you?”

“Katniss Everdeen. I’m actually interested in a job.”

“A job, huh? Can I see this?” he asks, gesturing to the resume that I’m gripping tightly in my hand.

“Yes, of course.”

“I’ll be right back,” he says, retreating back into what I assume is his office.

I tentatively take sips of the beer in front of me, which the once frosted glass is now turning warm under my grasp.

My beer thankfully only cost $2.00, so I hand the bartender a $5 bill, and tell her to keep the change. I remain seated at the bar, not so patiently waiting for the manager.

“Miss Everdeen,” Plutarch Heavensbee approaches me once again. “When would you like to start?”

He must sense my puzzlement, because he quickly elaborates. “You’re hired. We could really use some servers. You’ve never waited tables before?”

“No, sir.”

“It’s easy enough, you’ll pick it up quickly.”

“Uh, okay.”

“Johanna!” Mr. Heavensbee calls to the bartender. “Can you grab Katniss a training packet? Make sure you read through it before your first training shift. Which is…?”

He waits for me to answer his question, “Uh, tomorrow, if that's okay, sir. I’d like to start as soon as possible.”

“That's fine. And please, call me Plutarch.”

“Thank you, Plutarch.”

– – – – –

“Mason Hawthorne, please do your homework now.”

“Fine, mommy.”

Mason and I sit at the kitchen table while he does his homework, and I read over the training packet for my new job at Snow’s Pub.

Learning the menu, the various liquors and spirits, and their computer systems is turning out to be a daunting task, and I’m dreading my first training shift tomorrow.

“Mommy, Rylie’s daddy likes you.”

I spit my water across the room, and choke on the bit that made it’s way down my throat.

“What did you just say?”

“Rylie said her daddy likes you. Really likes you.”

“Mason, don’t make stuff up like that. It’s not nice.”

“I’m not, mommy. She told me.” For the first time since he was able to form a smile, Mason’s cheek-splitting grin is making me uneasy.

Another man liking me is absurd, especially when I still feel as if I’m still completely committed to Gale. I could never see myself becoming involved with another man, Gale was my one and only.

The familiar tightening in my chest arises once again, and I retreat to the bathroom to flee from Mason, as I frequently am forced to do.

As I stand at the sink, staring at my blurred reflection in the mirror, I wonder if my body will ever run out of tears to produce, or will this go on for the rest of my life. I can’t keep living this way; it’s not healthy for myself, or for Mason.

I press the heels of my palms against my eyes, wanting nothing more than for the tears to end, so I can regain my composure for my son.

As hard as I try every day, I feel that I will never be the mother that Mason fully deserves. He deserves to have everything in the world that he desires, as well as unconditional love, while I can only provide the latter.

He deserves much more than a mother escaping from him every time she needs to sob, break down, or have a panic attack. But mostly, he deserves a father.

I still blame myself every minute of every day for Gale’s untimely departure from this world. I’ve been told an infinite amount of times that my beliefs are ludicrous, and that when it’s your time to go, then it’s your time. That’s all bullshit to me.

The realization that I’ve been gazing at my reflection again, evaluating my life and my choices, while Mason sits at the table, worrying about his pathetic excuse for a mother.

“Hey, Mase.” My voice is calmer than I envisioned, and the sight of me transforms the confusion on his little face into relief. He flashes me his smile, which always soothes me and rapidly snaps me back into reality.

“Mommy, could you help me with my homework?”

My mouth curls into an involuntary smirk, and I sink into the chair next to my son to help him with his homework like any normal mother would.

– – – – –

I slide the tattered, old shoebox from underneath my bed. I do this when I’m desperate, and when I feel I have nowhere else to go, and no one else to turn to.

I flip through the old ones, sighing deeply at the abundance of letters I clutch tightly in my hands. I must be desperate more often than not.

I never read the letters after they’re written, it’s just a way to get the terrible thoughts that constantly plague my brain off my chest, and for someone to vent to. And that someone just so happens to be my late husband.

Writing letters to Gale that he will never receive wasn’t always a pastime of mine. It surprisingly only began a few short years ago, when Mason took on a striking resemblance to his father, and as I slipped deeper and deeper into my depression.

I’m doing better now, but as Mason grows the similarity to Gale grows stronger and stronger. So the letters have continued.

I’ve written about Mason’s milestones; losing his first baby teeth, and his first day of kindergarten last year. I tell him how Mase has taken a liking to baseball, just like his dad, and how he’s been begging for me to sign him up for the town’s tee ball team.

I start this letter just as I do all the others.

Dear Gale,

We miss you more every day that passes. I know I tell you that every time, but it’s true. Your spot next to me in bed was taken up by Mason last night. It was comforting, but at the same time, it hurt like hell because it wasn’t you. No one to tickle me while I try and fall asleep, and no one to hold me and comfort me when I need it.

But enough of that, you already know how badly I miss everything about you, Gale.

The bigger and bigger our son gets, the more he looks like you. Sometimes I find it hard to look into the eyes of my own son, because sometimes it feels like you looking back at me.

I know that's horrible. What kind of mother has difficulty with the sight of her own son at times? Me, the shit kind of mother.

I know that you would tell me that I’m wrong, and that I’m the best mother in the world, even though I’d know you were lying. Sometimes I just need that, Gale. Sometimes I just need to hear your voice to reassure me that I’ll be okay, that Mason and I will be okay.

I probably wouldn’t even believe you if you walked into my bedroom right now and told me that.

Each letter I write I try and put into words just how much I miss you, but I fail miserably every time. It’s an insanely ridiculous amount; there is no number or word that can explain the magnitude.

You would be so proud of our son, Gale. Not only has he inherited his fathers good looks, and personality, he is getting great grades in school, and he’s even made quite a few friends already.

We’ve only lived here for one month, and our boy has friends already. That’s unquestionably the Hawthorne genes, not the Everdeen. I know you would laugh at that joke, which makes me smile.

It’s one in the morning right now, and I know you would tell me to relax and get some sleep. But the space beside me is empty tonight, so I will drift off into a restless slumber while thinking about you; my nightly routine.

Goodnight my angel, and don’t worry about me, just please continue to watch over Mason.

I love you more than I could ever put into words, Gale.

Love always and forever,

Your wife Katniss

– – – – –

“Hey, is it alright if I get going? I need to pick Mason up from school.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Who is Mason?” the brunette bartender at Snow’s, Johanna, asks me. Johanna was my trainer today for my first shift at Snow’s.

“Oh, um. Mason is my son. He’s 6.”

“So you have a 6 year old son, but you aren’t married? What, did you get knocked up on a one night stand, brainless?”

Because Johanna is practically a stranger to me, I don’t know how to take her. Is she being sarcastic, or is she just rude? I’ll need to figure this out, and soon, especially if I will be working with this woman every day.

“Not exactly. My, uh… my husband passed away five years ago.”

Five years later, and every time I’m forced to spill the details, the words taste as sour as ever. Whenever a new person finds out about Gale, I feel like they can see right through me and know all of my private secrets.

I still hold Gale so incredibly close to my heart that I almost wish nobody had to find out about him, especially not anyone in this new town. The last thing I want is to have the reputation of the sad and pathetic widow.

Every day like clockwork, at 3:00 pm, Mason runs from his classroom and into my open arms. He tells me about his day and what’s he’s learning about. Nowhere in our routine does Peeta fit, or belong, and yet here he is.

“Hey, Katniss.”

Just as his smile begins to soothe me, I remember what Mason told me he said. This man likes me, which causes a strange feeling to course through my body. I don’t know what it is, but I want it to stop immediately.

“Sorry, Peeta. We need to go.”

“Oh, uh… Is everything okay? Will you call me later?”

“Maybe.” And I’m gone.

– – – – –

My phone vibrates against the wooden table, and interrupts my millionth reading of the training manual for my new job. Nonetheless, I glance at the screen.

Peeta: Are you okay? Earlier you just seemed a bit…worked up. Are you having a rough day?

Katniss: No. I’m fine.

Peeta: I don’t believe you, Katniss. But I’m here if you change your mind and want to talk.

I hadn’t even realized that I called Peeta, until I hear his husky voice say ‘hello.’ I rip the phone away from my ear and stare at the screen.

“Hello? Hello? Katniss, are you there?” I hear him shout into the receiver.

“Uh, hi,” I whisper, almost inaudibly. I don’t know what I should say to Peeta, or whether to tell him what Mason. I need to find out if he really does have feelings for me, because if he doesn’t I’m pushing away a really great friend.

This is going to be awkward.

“Are you okay, Katniss?”

“I, uh… I need to ask you something.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Mason told me that you, uh… like me.”

“I do, Katniss. I like you a lot.”

My breath and catches in my throat, and my palms begin to sweat. I wipe them on my pants, and pull the phone away from my face as I take multiple deep breaths.

“Katniss?” I hear him speak up once again to get my attention.

“I’m here, sorry. You like me? Like…”

“Oh, no! No, Katniss. Not like that.”

The relief is immediate, and my whole hand is pressed against my face as I giggle. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, and I just pray that Peeta doesn’t think I’m insane. I really don’t want to lose him as a friend.

“Peeta, I…”

“Don’t apologize, please. I understand.”

The laughter doesn’t stop, making it difficult for me to speak. “I am sorry, Peeta. Mason told me Rylie said that you really like me, and I believed him.”

“What are we going to do with those kids?” he jokes. “So, I take it you had a rough day?”

“I’ve had a rough five years, honestly.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Thanks, but Mason has been a bit too quiet in his room. I think I should go check on him.”

“Okay. You can always text me. I mean, if you want.”

 

“Thanks, Peeta. I’ll talk to you soon.”

 

We say our goodbyes, and I scold myself for lingering on the line until Peeta disconnects the call.

 

“Mase, what are you…” I freeze when I take in the sight of him laying face down on his desk, sound asleep.

 

I struggle slightly, but I manage to lift Mason, and tuck him into his bed. It’s almost as if a light bulb goes off in my head; he already had finished his homework. What was he doing at his desk?

 

I tiptoe back over, and my hand comes up to my mouth, to hold back the sobs. A few tears fall from my eyes and land on the pieces of paper scattered on Mason’s desk. He is writing a letter, which is addressed to his father.

 

I gather the letter in my shaking hands, and retreat back to my bedroom. I sit as still as boulder on my bed, with the letter clutched firmly in my hands, as I begin to read.

 

He tells Gale about our new town, and his new school. He talks about his friends, and my body chills when I see Rylie’s name, because my mind instantly goes to Peeta.

 

The tears pour down my cheeks as I continue to read.

 

_Mommy’s sad. She cries a lot because she misses you._

 

I clutch the letter to my chest, and cry. I cry until I am numb, and eventually drift off into another night of restless sleep.

 

– – – – –

 

“Mommy! Wake up!” Mason is tugging at my shirt, and shaking me awake.

 

I groan and roll over on my side to face Mason. His face falls, and before I even have a chance to wonder what’s made him upset, I feel the letter still clenched in my hands from the previous night.

 

“Mase, I…”

 

“That wasn’t for you! That was for daddy!”

 

“I know, Mase. I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

 

“Why can’t I have a daddy?” his voice nearly a whimper as he begins to cry.

 

“Come here.” I pull Mason toward me, and envelop him in a tight hug. I never want to see my son hurting, especially when it’s out of my control. Mason will always hurt from the loss of his father for the rest of his life.

 

I’m unsure of how long we lay together. It could have been minutes or maybe even hours, but he has seemed to calm down a bit.

 

“You know, Mase, I didn’t have a daddy either.”

 

He looks up at me, his gray eyes still filled to the brim with moisture. “You didn’t?” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

 

My dad passed away when I was 6, immediately following the birth of my little sister, Prim. Although I don’t have much recollection of my father, some memories are crystal clear.

 

I can vividly recall his drug use, and addiction to prescription painkillers. Drugs always came first to my father, and he would constantly put our family on the back burner.

 

I have some blurred memories of my mother dabbling as well, but her habits were never as severe and toxic as my father’s. My mother was always there to protect us from anything, especially him.

 

His death hurt, but it wasn’t as painful as I’d expected it to be. Perhaps growing up with a drug-addicted father softened the blow, and I was too numb from my past to even care about his death.

 

Yes, there were tears, and yes, I was definitely sad, but it had already felt like he was gone to me before he was actually gone.

 

My sister’s death wasn’t nearly as easy to deal with as my father’s had been.

 

When my father passed away, my mother slipped into a deep depression, and started abusing painkillers as well. I was forced to age many years very quickly, to care for my little sister, Prim.

 

Prim was almost one year old, and I was approaching my seventh birthday. I’m still in disbelief at how much responsibility was thrown on me at such a young age. I was just a bit older than Mason, and caring for an infant.

 

Prim was my only family, and we were extremely close. We spent every waking second, that we weren’t in school, together. It’s safe to say that Prim was my entire life.

 

I admired her strength, and her positivity. She always saw the good in everyone and everything, and always could find the silver lining in everything. She was a much better person than I ever was, or ever will be.

 

I met Gale in high school when I was 16 years old, and Prim was only 10. I quickly got wrapped up in him, and we soon became inseparable, which did not sit well with Prim.

 

I still struggle with the guilt to this day; the guilt of putting my boyfriend above my sister, and leaving her at home alone with our mother every day.

 

My picture perfect, and blissful life with my boyfriend came to a screeching halt, when Prim began to feel ill frequently. She would complain how she was constantly fatigued, and could never find warmth. She was dizzy, and would become lightheaded multiple times a day. Her naturally pale skim gradually became lighter, and even paler.

 

I saved every cent of the money I was making at my job at a small clothing store in town, because I could feel it in my bones that something was not right with Prim. This was going to be something severe, and I needed to prepare myself, financially as well as mentally.

 

Prim was soon diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia at age 12.

 

Her diagnosis was far harder on me than on her. She maintained an optimistic outlook, as usual, and attempted to reassure me on multiple occasions that she will fight this, and come out stronger.

 

I was the only one at the hospital every day taking care of her when her health began to decline. I was the only one who held her hand the entire way, and not only cried for her, but with her as well.

 

My mother made an appearance one single time at the hospital, and Prim did not speak a word to her. Fortunately, she never showed her face there again. Neither of us wanted her there anyway.

 

Prim and I spent her 13th birthday in the hospital. I filled the entire room with balloons, and Gale and I stayed with her the entire day, determined to make her smile and laugh.

 

85 to 90% of children will go into remission after rounds of chemotherapy for AML, and luckily, Prim was one of them.

 

We were thrilled, and bringing Prim home from the hospital is still one of the happiest moments of my life. Prim was NEC for about 9 months, and just before her 14th birthday, she was back in the hospital.

 

They told us that if the AML comes back after a long remission, the original treatment may work again. But it didn’t on Prim.

 

After we met with the doctors, we decided to test out one of the clinical trials, which I never had my heart set on working.

 

Prim was okay, and stable, for a little while, until a few days after her 14th birthday, they diagnosed her leukemia as terminal.

 

We cried together for days, lying in her hospital bed and hugging each other. Those days are still some of the most difficult days of my life.

 

She passed away a week later. My only source of comfort was Gale, and he was there for me the entire time. I’d never felt so broken in my entire life.

 

Prim’s death did not just hurt me, it completely scarred me, and I’m still grieving to this day.

 

My mother didn’t show up to her funeral, which was the final straw for me. I was already 18, so I was able to leave and never look back. I packed my belongings, and moved in with Gale’s family until we saved enough money for our own apartment.

 

One year later, we were 19-year-old college students living in our tiny apartment, and I was pregnant.

 

My mother had no idea about my attending college, my pregnancy, my marriage, and she still doesn’t know that Mason even exists. And I fully intend to keep it that way for the rest of my life.

 

Then one extremely short year later, Gale was gone as well.

 

– – – – –

 

_“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hawthorne, we’ve tried everything.”_

_I stare at my lifeless son in the hospital bed. His life was too short, too painful. Tubes come out from multiple locations on his body, and I can’t peel my eyes from the ventilator in his mouth, the only thing that’s keeping him breathing._

_He didn’t deserve this._

_At 6 years old, he has been through more than some people have in their entire lives. But now his is ending, and it’s my fault; just like Gale’s._

_“Mrs. Hawthorne?”_

_I realize I’ve been standing completely still, staring at Mason, and ignoring the doctor._

_“Yeah, uh… I’m sorry. Can I have some time with him?”_

_The doctor and nurses evacuate the room, and I’m left alone with my comatose son. I’m having flashbacks to Gale in nearly the same predicament, which was also my fault._

_“Hey, Mase,” I say while sniffling and choking on the sobs. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted any of this. I just wanted to protect you, and keep you alive.”_

_Everyone that I love around me dies; Prim, Gale, and now my son. Everyone, except me. Perhaps it’s because I don’t love myself._

_“You’ll get to meet your daddy. I know you’ll…” I’m unable to finish my statement before I’m lying next to Mason in the bed, bawling uncontrollably._

_“You get to be with your dad, your aunt Prim, and even my daddy. Tell them that I miss then and love them. And I love you, Mase. I’m going to miss you so much…”_

I startle awake, my body coated in a layer of perspiration. I’m relieved when I turn and see Mason, sleeping peacefully beside me.

 

“Mason,” I whisper, while gently shaking him awake. Although I know that it’s 2 in the morning, and he’s perfectly fine, I just need the reassurance.

 

“Mommy?” he asks weakly, and I can hear the exhaustion in his voice.

 

“I’m sorry, I had a bad dream. Come here.”

 

Mason slides closer to me on the bed, and we wrap our arms around each other. I squeeze him tightly, and scatter kisses on his head.

 

“I love you, mommy.”

 

“I love you more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr: hungergameshutch

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading my brand new story! I'd appreciate any feedback as well!
> 
> Also - you can find me on Tumblr: hungergameshutch


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